"You've been very good to me," he rambled on, "you told me of the Good Shepherd"—— There was silence, broken only by the choking sobs of the listeners; even the policemen, used as they were to similar scenes, were deeply moved at the dying boy's love for his little friend. His eyes were closed, but his disengaged hand wandered feebly over the horse-rug that covered him, until at last he laid it on Pollie's bowed head. There it rested; his eyes unclosed, and he gazed wildly round, saying excitedly—
"Pollie, Pollie, it's so dark. Is it night coming on? Don't go, little Pollie. Let me say the prayer you taught me." He tried to fold his hands as she had always done. In vain—they fell upon the coverlet, weak and nerveless.
"Lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death," he murmured falteringly. The voice ceased!
Crippled Jimmy had passed away safely into the fold of the Good Shepherd!
Ah! who would wish him back again? Misery exchanged for perfect bliss—sorrow and sighing for eternal joy.
They all gazed upon the sharp pinched features, now gradually settling into the calm repose of death. What in life was almost painful to look upon, with the touch of immortality became lovely; for the dead child's face bore the impress of an angel's smile, as though he had caught a glimpse of heaven's happiness whilst passing through the dark valley of the shadow of death.
Little Pollie clung to her mother, sobbing convulsively and hiding her face in her dress.
"Hush, my darling," soothed the widow; "poor Jimmy is now with God, free from all sorrow or pain. Think what his joy must be!"
They were startled by a harsh voice screeching out—
"That ain't my Jimmy! Let me get at him! I say, what be you folks doing here?"